The Great Escape. That is major league baseball at its best and it came through, however fleeting, last night.
There were ten or so glorious minutes when the world seemed right. That stretch of time when Cleveland tied it up and the rains came and all that mattered was this baseball game between the Indians and the Cubs.
For that exciting, innocent moment, all of the world’s horrible problems vanished. There was no thoughts of Aleppo, of my Uncle Harry’s cancer, of the bizarre presidential election, of that nail in my right rear tire.
All I thought about was baseball. I wish the game was still going on. I wish it was in the 57th inning.